


Pride

by musingsofamadman



Series: Horror; Prompted [2]
Category: Original Works
Genre: But it might be comfortable for some., Gen, Horror, I wouldn't consider it graphic, Mentions of blood splattering, light gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofamadman/pseuds/musingsofamadman
Series: Horror; Prompted [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781407





	Pride

How did I end up here? The gun is cold against my temple, and I’m sharply aware of how easily I could die right now. He says he doesn’t want to hurt me- he wants to help me. I don’t know what he means. 

“I want you to finish these people off.” It looks like there’s three of them, all tied to chairs. I don’t get a very good look at them because my eyes get teary, and I have to turn my head away. He gives me a knife.

He’s got a gun to my head, what am I supposed to do? My hands tremble, and I have to focus to keep myself from spiraling. It probably won’t even hurt them anymore than what he’s already done. It’ll end their suffering. It doesn’t sound like any of them are struggling; he might’ve even drugged them. I feel like puking. Did I just justify murder? He’s making me do this. I hope they understand. 

I take deep breaths to steady myself. If I have to do this, might as well make sure that I don’t make this worse for them. He laughs coldly, like he’s read my mind. 

“And don’t think you can get off easy by stabbing them somewhere like the face or neck. I want you to draw this out.” I’m going to have to stab someone to death. I look at each of them, realizing suddenly that save for their hands and legs being tied to the chairs, they’re all for the most part unharmed physically. He wanted me to be the one to hurt them. 

I hear the click of the gun right beside my ear. He’s not going to wait for me to get over my nerves. I just have to do it. I go for the person closest to me- it turns out to be a young man. For a strange moment as I move towards the man, I’m impressed that he managed to get someone who looks so strong. He’s got a gun; that’s not exactly a fair fight. What’s wrong with me? 

I grab the knife with both hands, closing my eyes as I stab him in the thigh. Whatever he’s been drugged with isn’t enough to keep him from jerking away from me and screaming. The sound is muffled- if it hadn’t been, I don’t know if I’d have been able to handle it. I pull out the knife, and he jerks against the chair again. I take a deep breath to ground myself and gag with the smell of blood. I feel disgusting. 

“Do it again. You keep going until I say stop.” I keep my eyes closed as I stab him again. I can feel blood splatter against my face, and hear him whine something. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is, I have a feeling it isn’t the nicest. I pull out the knife, and stab him again. The blood is warm, and it makes me gag again. He keeps jerking, and whimpering. 

The slower I do this, the longer it’ll last. If I just get this over with, I can move on. Maybe he’ll shoot me either way, or maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe I can go home to my family. I want this to be over. I steel myself, open my eyes, and start stabbing as quickly as I can. The blood splatters everywhere, and my hands become slick with blood and sweat. 

It’s terrible to look at, but I had no choice. I look to the next person, who seems to be conscious but unaware of their surroundings. When I get close to them, they turn to look at me. Their eyes are a strikingly familiar blue. I find myself having the strange urge to take their eyes out of their head. It’s an awful thought, and it makes my stomach do a flip. They say something to me, but I can’t make it out through their gag. 

It doesn’t matter what they say- I’d still have to do this. I shake my head at them, hoping that that’s enough to show that I don’t want to do this anymore than they want to be stabbed. I stab them, heart pounding loudly. I do it again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Why can’t I stop? Why don’t I want to stop anymore? My ears are ringing. 

I force myself away from them, trying not to cry. I’m looking forward to the next one, and that thought sends chills down my spine. He’s making me do this; this isn’t my choice. I step over to the last person; it’s an older woman. She’s crying, begging through the gag. I can’t understand her, but through her tone I can tell. 

I hate how satisfied that sound makes me. I stab her. I stab her. I stab her. She screams, and sobs loudly. She has to be in her fifties at the earliest. I stab her. I stab her. I stab her. She stops moving. I fight the urge to laugh. I drop the knife quickly, looking at my blood soaked hands. 

“Good. I’m so proud of you! All it took was a little probing.” He drops the gun with a loud laugh. “It’s empty.” He walks away like nothing happened. I know I’ll never know who he is, or even what he looks like, but I always wonder. Was he someone I knew?

He made me do it. 

Why won’t anyone believe me?


End file.
